Hands Off & Hands On
by Binsfeld
Summary: Shepard gets fall-down drunk, and Vega ends up having to ward off an overly friendly dance partner. Shepard reacts unexpectedly. vega/manshep slash
1. Hands Off

_Someone on the MEKinkMeme requested gentleman/protective!Vega and drunk!manshep. I couldn't resist._

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><p><strong>Hands Off<strong>

Good Jesus in stockings, did the Commander _ever_ drink?

Someone had decided to buy all the soldiers at the bar a couple of rounds, and now the dance floor in Purgatory was full of drunken marines attempting to dance, some more successfully than others. And Shepard, perhaps rattled by the prospect of invading Cerberus's home base in the very near future, had accepted the shot shoved in his hands and downed it in one go.

A mere three shots later and he was out there flailing like a demented chimpanzee. James was acutely embarrassed on his behalf, but too delightfully amused to save him from himself. So he lounged against the bar, wishing he had a camera, and watched his Commander "dance" with the other marines, only hearing half of what Joker was trying to say over the thumping music.

"Man, I don't think I've ever seen the Commander drunk before," the pilot laughed, perched on a stool to Vega's left. "Where's EDI when you need her? She could record this and put it on the extranet. Shepard could become infamous overnight."

"Loco's wasted," James noted, unable to banish a shit-eating grin. He was going to tease Shepard about this for weeks. _Weeks._ The man was going to be mortified when he realized he'd made a lightweight fool of himself in front of half the Alliance. Maybe he'd be one of those blackout drunks with little to no recollection of the events, and James could insert a few raunchy lies to really give the Commander nightmares. _Oh yeah, you were totally all over that elcor that night, Loco. It was pretty hot._ He laughed to himself, ordering himself another drink. Tomorrow was going to be fun for everyone on board the Normandy. Everyone but Shepard, that is.

Joker made a choking noise. "Man, that guy either doesn't know who he's hitting on, or he is _really_ hoping to score out of his league."

James turned to follow his gaze. Shepard was still attempting to imitate an electrocuted jellyfish, but now he had a dance partner. He wasn't military, that was for damned sure. None of the Alliance out there, not even the enlisted folk privately laughing at Shepard, were dumb enough to hit on the hero of the Citadel. The man was rumored to headbutt krogans who got on his nerves, for crissakes. No, this was a civilian, obviously drunk, though not so hammered as the man he was currently attempting to dryhump in view of God and everyone.

"I don't know whether to laugh or cry," Joker sputtered, his face doing odd contortions as he fought valiantly not to burst into merciless laughter.

"Man, that's just..." James shook his head with a grin, but he could feel his amusement slipping away despite himself. The guy was being wayyy too enthusiastic. And Shepard, the drunken moron, wasn't doing a very good job at discouraging him.

"Where you going?"

James hadn't realized he'd started towards the dancefloor until Joker's inquiry brought him up short. He hesitated, trying to figure out what excuse he could give that wouldn't make him come across as a jealous tool.

Because it wasn't like he was jealous.

At all.

"I'm just putting a stop to this before Loco makes himself look like more of an ass than he already does. 'Sides, I think 'El Capitan' needs to get his drunk ass to bed."

Joker laughed and waved him off. "Man, good luck. You'll end up having to carry him off to the ship at this rate. The man's _gone_."

James made his way through the packed dance floor, politely turning down several gyrating bodies offering to team up for a dance- or more. By the time he reached his target, Shepard's unwanted suitor practically had a hand down the man's pants and a tongue down his ear. By this point Shepard was becoming fully aware of just how much Do Not Want the situation warranted but was having too much trouble standing up straight, much less figuring out which way to aim a fist.

James reached out, grabbed the scruffy dancer by the shoulder, and wrenched him off of Shepard with a little more force than necessary. "Mitts off," he snapped.

The man whirled on him, opening his mouth for an angry retort, and got a good look at the marine towering over him. Self preservation kicked in, and he shrank back. "Hey, I wasn't doin' nothin', it's cool, it's cool," he mumbled, barely even audible over the music.

"Get lost." James gave him another shove to send him scuttling off, and turned to regard his Commander with a judgmental eye. "I think I'm cutting you off, Loco. You have one more drink and we're gonna have to mop you up into a bucket."

Shepard laughed, grabbing Vega's arm to keep himself upright. "My hero," he mocked. He waved a hand carelessly, barely missing belting a nearby woman in the nose. "I'm fine, I'm fiiiiine. I just needa... rest my eyes for a second, maybe. Pull the cab over for a sec and lemmie take a breather."

"Right. The cab." Rolling his eyes and fighting back a smile, James looped the man's arm over his shoulder, taking on most of his weight, and steered them towards the exit. "It's nap time, Loco."

They made it halfway to the door before Shepard abruptly decided to grab his bigger companion in a clumsy headlock and yank him down for a sloppy slightly off-aim kiss.

James jerked his head back automatically, startled. A slow flush crept up his neck, and he glanced back to make sure they were out of Joker's immediate line of sight. "Shep- Loco, what the hell? You're drunk. Behave, man. Don't go doing stupid things you're gonna regret in the morning."

"Pffft," came the unimpressed reply. But he let go and allowed James to half-carry him out of the club.

This time Shepard managed to behave until they actually got on board the Normandy. If you counted his slurred singing of an old raunchy marine song as behaving.

"James. James. Hey, James."

"What, Loco?" James shifted the man's weight onto his hip as he activated the elevator, fighting to hold back an amused smile.

"Pst. James."

"_What_, Lo-"

They stumbled into the elevator, and James hit the back wall with a grunt. A second later Shepard's mouth, hot and tasting like whatever expensive liquor he'd been gulping, was back on his, and rough hands were pushing clumsily but impatiently at his shirt.

"Shit," James gasped, shoving the man away and holding him at arm's length. "Commander, you need to stop, all right?"

Shepard glared back with drunken petulance. "What? Why?"

_Because I'm going to pin you to the wall in about five seconds and take thorough advantage of you,_ Vega thought frantically, but instead said, "Because you're drunk as shit and you're not thinking right, okay? And I don't want things to be weird tomorrow."

Shepard's eyes slanted downwards, and James could feel his face burning. Drunk or not, Shepard had obviously gotten the rough idea that James was interested to some degree.

The elevator chimed, announcing they'd reached the captain's quarters, and James propelled his Commander out of the elevator with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Let's go, Loco. Beddy-bye time for all drunk bastards. You'll thank me in the morning."

Shepard managed to get a couple good gropes in, complaining vaguely, before Vega finally tipped the man into his bed. By the time he'd pulled the Commander's boots off, Shepard was out like a light.

James dimmed the lights and crept out. Once in the elevator he collapsed bonelessly against the wall, shaking slightly from his battle with his own traitorous body. "Go team," he croaked, giving himself a pat on the back for his self-control. But he was still thumping the back of his head against the wall in frustrated regret when the elevator returned to the cargo bay.


	2. Hands On 1

_A/N: I got so many requests for a "Hands Off" continuation on the kink meme that I buckled and decided to wrap this up with the required sexy times. Fair warning: I can't even remember how long it's been since I attempted to write a sex scene. __

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><p><strong>Hands On<strong>

No one was dumb enough to laugh in Shepard's face the next day, though several crew members were forced to turn their backs on him to hide their grins. Apparently someone _had_ caught a few minutes of his frenzied jig on the dance floor with a recorder, and promptly uploaded it to the extranet. Because of poor lighting, the popular rumor was that it wasn't Commander Shepard at all, but it was still a funny joke. The Normandy crew, many who had at least heard of his "elite" dancing skills, guessed the truth. To save him from humiliation- if only temporarily -EDI followed Traynor's suggestion and made sure the extranet crapped out every time Shepard tried to access his private terminal. Anything vital was sent Traynor's way for her to relay.

Garrus, who couldn't be trusted _not_ to tease his friend mercilessly, was forbidden from being anywhere near Shepard.

Shepard barely noticed that anything was amiss. He was a wreck for hours, riding the last unforgiving waves of a brutal hangover. He slept in past noon, stumbled around blearily clutching a quart of water, and answered any inquiries with muffled grunts. He seemed to have no recollection of anything that had happened since that first shot glass had found its way to his lips.

Vega, meanwhile, spent his day doing a gazillion pull-ups in a desperate attempt to blot out the memory of a clumsy mouth and eager hands.

Cortez, noting his aloofness, approached him just before dinner, determined to get to the bottom of it. "So, I heard you escorted the Commander back to the ship last night," he said casually, inspecting one of the guns Vega had been modifying.

Vega had moved on to push-ups. He grunted a non-committal reply.

"He was pretty wasted. Like, black-out wasted from what I hear." Cortez shot him a stern look. "I'm going to assume you were a gentleman, Mr. Vega."

James almost fell on his stomach, cursing internally. Trust Cortez to pick up on the one thing Vega had been trying to hide for weeks. "I tossed him in his bed and left," he grumbled, glad his face was already red from his workout. He glared at the floor to avoid his friend's eyes, speeding up his push-ups. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, you nosy _pendejo_."

"Just checking." Cortez propped his hip against the table and regarded the bigger man with a hint of pity in his eyes. "Vega, you either need to get over this or talk to the Commander. Even if he turns you down, wouldn't it be better to have it resolved? He's a good guy. He's not going to be an ass about it. He didn't so much as blink when I told him about Rob."

"All you did was tell the Commander you were married to another dude," James retorted, starting to get out of breath from his workout. "You didn't walk up to him and go 'hey, just so you know, I-'" he stuttered to a stop. He couldn't even say it out loud.

"Want to fuck your brains out?" Cortez finished innocently.

"JESUS, Esteban!"

"What? Stop acting like such a skittish virgin. Okay, you don't have to be so crude, but I still think you need to be honest with him. Grow a pair, Vega. You know how many people are probably waiting in the sidelines to scoop the Commander up? I hear every other asari he meets puts the moves on him. And then there's the folks on-board he's been with since the beginning. If either Kaidan or Liara doesn't make a move before we head for earth, I'll die of shock."

Vega bounced to his feet and began doing stretches, scowling darkly. "Who asked you to play matchmaker, Esteban? Go procure something."

"Whatever." Cortez rolled his eyes and pushed away from the table. "Just don't come crying to me if someone else gets there first." A small grin tugged at his mouth. "Hell, maybe I've even thought about it."

James gaped at him.

"Relax. And shut your mouth, you look like an idiot. I'm not going after someone you're sweet on." He slapped the man's shoulder affectionately as he passed. "Even if a walking tank like you doesn't deserve him."

"Hey!"

"Talk to him, Vega," Cortez called over his shoulder. "Today."

**xxxx**

By dinner time Shepard seemed to have finally gotten over his hangover with a little help from a sympathetic Chakwas. He was in the dining area with some of the crew, and had finally caught onto the fact that he'd in some way made a fool of himself the previous night. Vega stalled, taking his time heating up his meal packet as he eavesdropped on the conversations at the long table. As soon as Shepard had started demanding explanations for his hangover, the others had dropped their ban on heckling.

"Who the hell gave me that much alcohol in the first place?" Shepard demanded. He was eating in small mincing bites, half afraid his stomach might turn queasy once more and reject the processed food.

"You used to outdrink krogan, Shepard," Tali teased. She'd left the engine room in Adams's capable hands, eager to witness her old friend's embarrassment. "Whoever gave you the shots probably thought you could handle it."

"I lost all alcohol tolerance after Cerberus rebuilt me," Shepard protested. "Virgin liver!" He glared suspiciously at his glaring crew. "I danced, didn't I? Please don't tell me you jackasses let me get out on the dance floor." The hysterical laughter was answer enough. He buried his face in his hands with a groan to hide how red his face was getting.

"You were quite a sight, Commander," Kaidan remarked, fighting and failing not to grin.

One of the surveillance technicians got to her feet and did a brief humorous imitation of Shepard's flailing dance, causing more laughter.

Shepard scowled, flinging a bread roll at the woman. "You're all court martialed," he grumbled.

"You looked like you were having so much fun, we didn't have the heart to save you from yourself," Kaidan said, and laughingly ducked another roll.

Vega took a seat across from Shepard, his nervousness put to rest for the time being. Clearly Shepard's memories were scanty at best. He couldn't resist joining in the teasing. "Virgin liver is right, Loco. It only took four or five shots to get you out there shaking your ass like a-"

Shepard leveled him with a flat look. "One more word, _Jimmy_, and I'm letting Javik toss you out the airlock."

James grinned back.

"And did you see that guy dancing with him?" hooted another tech. "He was-" He gave a _whoof_ as Kaidan abruptly elbowed him in the ribs to silence him. This was the one part of the evening everyone was still avoiding.

"What?" Shepard looked around at them suspiciously, but they all carefully avoided eye contact. "What guy? Who the hell would be drunk enough to dance with me?"

Tali tittered nervously. "Oh, just some... guy. It was only for a few minutes."

"Yeah, don't worry, Commander," the tech said quickly, eager to make up for his blunder. "Vega dragged him off you- _oof!_" He rubbed his ribs, sulking.

"Dragged him...?" Shepard leaned back in his chair, looking right at Vega. "Care to explain?"

"Uhh..." James glanced around, but no one was going to help him out. Oh hell, what was the big deal? Nothing had happened, not really. "Some guy just got kinda frisky, Loco. Guess he couldn't resist your moves."

"Vega sent him packing, Commander," Traynor soothed. "It was just some drunk bozo."

Donnelly nodded. "And then he carried your drunk ass back to the Normandy, safe and sound. Sir."

"Yeah. EDI told me that much." Shepard glanced at Vega again sideways, but didn't elaborate.

Vega almost inhaled his artichoke. Jesus tapdancing Christ. EDI. She monitored everything that went on aboard the ship. How much had she seen? And she loved to play jokes. What if she'd decided to show Joker a certain scene from the elevator last night? What if Joker had said something to Shepard?

He stared at his tray, unable to make himself look at his Commander, heart slamming in his chest.

**xxxx**

Shepard hurried to his cabin as soon as dinner was over. He had a horrible, terrible suspicion, and if he didn't get to the bottom of this, he was going to fret and worry about it for days. So far Vega seemed to be acting natural around him, unless... Well, maybe he was just being paranoid, but...

It sure seemed like Vega was having trouble meeting his eyes. The man had avoided him like the plague all day.

"Please tell me I passed out on the way home," he hissed through his teeth, sliding into his desk chair and bringing up his personal terminal. "EDI. I know you were monitoring my return to the Normandy last night. Don't even try to pretend otherwise."

"I always make a note of when the commanding officer returns to the ship, Shepard," EDI replied calmly.

"Right. I want to see your surveillance footage from when I first stepped foot on board last night to when I went to sleep."

"Are you sure that's wise, Shepard?"

Shepard hesitated, his dread mounting. Was EDI trying in her own way to save him from humiliation? "I need to know if I did anything a lot dumber than dancing," he finally said grimly. "Just show me the footage."

"Very well, Shepard."

He leaned close to his screen, anxiously gripping the edge of his desk as he watched the footage. There he was, being practically carried aboard by Vega. He was singing something dirty and off-tune, but Vega was being a good sport about it all. He kept fighting back an amused grin. For just an instant Shepard thought he could relax. If singing like a drowning cat was the worst thing he'd done last night, he could live with that.

Then the scene in the elevator happened.

"Oh fucking goddammit shit," Shepard groaned, watching in horror as the clumsy make-out attempt was swiftly aborted by Vega on-screen. "Why couldn't I have died of alcohol poisoning?" He watched as they reached the cabin and Vega firmly guided him to bed, trying and failing to dodge a few intimate if clumsy gropes. When it was over, Shepard shut off the monitor and began banging his head slowly but methodically against his desk. "Do me a favor and flood my room with toxin, please, EDI."

"I apologize, Shepard. I used up the last of the nerve gas when Admiral Han Gerrel was on board."

"Make a note not to voice your twisted sense of humor aloud if Admiral Hackett ever visits," Shepard said grumpily. He straightened, running his hand fretfully over his short-cropped hair. "Jesus. No wonder Vega's been avoiding me all day. I practically jumped him."

"You were quite intoxicated, Shepard."

"Yeah, well..." He rubbed at his jaw, face uncomfortably hot. "At least Vega didn't punch me in the face. A broken nose would've made my hangover that much worse." A sudden thought occurred to him. "He didn't make any official complaint, did he?"

"No." There was a long pause as if EDI was debating what to say. "Shepard. I have additional footage of a conversation between Lieutenant Cortez and Lieutenant Vega concerning last night. Would you like to see it?"

For a moment Shepard was tempted. Then he shook his head reluctantly. He'd promised himself he would only use EDI's footage for emergencies. It would be wrong to spy on his crew mates, an invasion of privacy. "No. Thank you, EDI. I think I'd better just talk to him myself." He pressed the button on his console that connected him to Traynor. "Traynor, can you ask James to come up to my cabin for a minute? I need to speak with him."

"Of course, Commander."

Shepard got to his feet and went to stare blankly at his aquarium, hands clasped tightly behind his back. He waited, every muscle tense, until finally there was a knock at his door.


End file.
